Savior in Shadow Slave

[THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SCENE THAT MAY BE INNAPROPRIATE TO SOME READERS. PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.]

Lucas moved with a limp now.

Each step sent a jolt of pain up his leg, where the creature's pincer had cracked the armor and torn muscle. He'd bound it as best he could with spare cloth and a weird liquid from a dead Scavenger—but it was a temporary fix. A delay of the inevitable.

The Crimson Coral Labyrinth stretched endlessly before him, a twisted expanse of blood-red stone and coral formations that pulsed faintly, as though the entire terrain was alive. The "coral" wasn't stone at all—but a hard, porous substance that had solidified.

The air was heavy here. Sulfur mixed with salt. The sky above was a murky gray, barely visible through the tangle of coral canopies.

Even the light was wrong.

Glowing fungi clung to the labyrinth walls, casting everything in shades of crimson and violet. Shadows seemed to cling too long. And the deeper Lucas went, the more the place pressed in—not physically, but spiritually. A pressure behind the eyes. A constant sense of being watched.

He moved from cover to cover, careful not to drag his wounded leg. The Scavengers were still around, but they were nothing compared to what he truly feared.

Centurions.

The memory of the first fight haunted him—the sheer presence of that thing. Its relentless movements. The way it didn't bleed or falter. The only reason he had lived to tell the tale was because of the oil extract from centipedes.

And now, in the twisting arteries of the Labyrinth, he could hear it again.

That sound.

A slow, metallic scraping in the distance. Not regular like footsteps—but intermittent, uneven, like something dragging blades across coral.

He ducked behind a broken pillar. Peered through a gap in the coral.

And there it was.

Another Carapace Centurion.

Taller than the last. Sleeker, almost. Its armor was a darker crimson now, blended with streaks of obsidian. Its arm-blade was serrated, and the other arm—previously a spear—was now shaped into a barbed whip of chitin and chain.

Lucas's breath caught. He didn't even think about running.

'No choice. If I run in this state, it'll hunt me down anyway. At least here… I pick the field.'

He drew his blade slowly. The Starlight Region Armor, though damaged, still shimmered with latent energy. His fingers traced the engraving of the seven stars on his breastplate. He steadied his breath.

'One mistake and I'm dead. So, no mistakes.'

He emerged from cover, tossed a shard-stone at the creature's feet.

It turned.

Its hollow gaze locked onto him instantly. A slow tilt of the head—hunger. Then it moved.

Not ran. Moved. Blink-fast. Gliding forward in jarring lunges, the whip-arm already extending.

Lucas dodged sideways, the barbed chain slicing the air beside him. He countered with a downward slash at the joints in its legs—but the blade bounced off.

'Too hard!'

The Centurion responded by spinning, blade-arm cleaving through coral as if it were paper. Lucas raised his vambrace—caught the strike. Sparks and pain exploded as the force threw him back.

He slammed into a coral spine. Cracked it. Something in his ribs cracked too.

He coughed. Blood.

'Not good.'

But he didn't stop.

He rolled to the side as the whip snapped again, cutting a gash in the coral where his head had been.

He needed an opening.

A weakness.

The joints and stomach.

He baited it—limping back, dragging his blade on purpose. The Centurion lunged again, high and sweeping. Lucas ducked low—drove his secondary dagger into the gap behind its knee plate while another one in the belly.

The Centurion faltered.

Lucas surged up with a roar, leapt onto its back—drove his sword into the joint where the neck would have been. It screeched, twisted violently, throwing him off.

He hit the ground hard. Vision blurred.

It came again—blade raised.

He raised his gauntlet.

"Starlight Pulse!" he shouted.

A burst of radiant energy exploded from his armor's chest, the seven stars briefly flaring to life. Releasing the stored kinetic energy. The Centurion was blasted backward, armor cracking at last.

Lucas rose, stumbled forward, and brought his blade down on the fractured chest.

Again.

And again.

Until the screeching stopped.

Until the armor stopped moving.

Until there was silence.

He stood, gasping. Bloodied. Shaking.

[You have slain an Awakened Monster, Carapace Centurion]

He used his sword and took out two Tier II Soul Shards.

He hurriedly absorbed them. Worrying the battle would attract more of its kind.

His Soul Core Saturation rose to 30%.

He didn't smile this time.

He just looked westward—toward the Dark Sea that waited beyond the crimson maze.

Still limping.

Still alive.

But now with the resolve of someone who had bled for every step—and would bleed again.

***

Lucas kept moving.

Every step in the Crimson Coral Labyrinth felt like it cost something. Blood. Breath. Sanity. His leg throbbed with every movement. His ribs protested with sharp stabs of pain. But the path wound forward, and so he followed it—deeper, farther from where sunlight could reach.

During his journey, he hunted centipede monsters in particular, harvesting their oil glands and storing the substance in containers made from their own skins.

Eventually, he stumbled upon a nest—a foul, reeking cavern thick with the stench of rot and acid. Inside, countless eggs pulsed with life, embedded within the bodies of different creatures that served as unwilling incubators. Four Carapace Scavengers lurked in the shadows, their armored forms circling a human-like figure at the center of the horror.

Lucas watched the grotesque scene, his stomach churning so violently he nearly vomited. For a moment, he considered turning away—just fleeing the nest and its unbearable stench of decay and acid.

But then he saw her.

At first, he thought she was just another corpse, another discarded husk used by the scavengers. But then—she moved.

Or rather, the Scavengers did. Their chitinous bodies shifted over her, around her, their hooked limbs pressing down in a grotesque, rhythmic motion. Lucas didn't know if those things could even feel, but right now, it looked like they were enjoying themselves.

And the woman—alive, barely—made a sound. Not a scream. Not a whimper. Just a wet, broken gasp.

Lucas's breath hitched as the largest Scavenger—a towering, chitinous horror—pressed against the woman's broken form, its movements methodical and grotesque. It was filling her with its dick. Something not meant to enter in humans.

Another forced something thick and glistening past her lips, her jaw straining against its unnatural shape. White and glistening liquid pooled beneath her like a manifestation of their deeds.

The third Scavenger loomed behind her, its spear-like appendage repeatedly shoving up her excretion area and glistening with fluids Lucas didn't want to identify.

Worst of all was the fourth—dripping some viscous, shimmering liquid over her wounds. Her body jerked, not just in pain, but with a twisted mimicry of pleasure, her face flushing as the substance worked its vile magic. It was the same liquid that Lucas used to temporarily heal his wounds but seemed more concentrated.

This wasn't just torture. It was perversion of flesh itself.

A weak twitch of the fingers.

A whisper, so faint it might have been the wind—yet it cut through the stench and the horror, aimed at him alone.

"...Please..."

The word hung in the air like a dying breath. It wasn't just a plea. It was an accusation. A demand.

Lucas's hands clenched. His body screamed at him to run, to leave this cursed nest behind.

But her eyes locked onto his.

Broken. Aware. Begging.

Lucas's grip tightened around his weapon as the woman's plea echoed in his skull. His body screamed at him to flee—but the sight of those four chittering monstrosities, their armored bodies glistening with foul secretions, filled him with a cold, focused rage.

The largest Scavenger—the one violating her— sensing danger, whipped its head toward him, mandibles clicking in warning to others. Lucas didn't hesitate.

He lunged, blade flashing in the dim light. The creature reared back, but not fast enough—steel bit deep into its underbelly, splitting chitin with a wet crack. Black blood sprayed as it shrieked, staggering away from its victim.

The other three Scavengers reacted instantly.

The second Scavenger—the one forcing its grotesque appendage into her mouth—hissed and launched itself at him. Lucas barely dodged, feeling the wind of its barbed limbs slash past his face. He countered with a brutal swing to its thorax, sending it back—but the third was already on him.

A spear-like arm stabbed toward his ribs. Lucas twisted, taking a shallow gash across his side. Pain flared, but he gritted his teeth and swung downward, shearing off the tip of the creature's limb. It screeched, recoiling—just as the fourth Scavenger doused him in that shimmering, pleasuring fluid.

Lucas's muscles locked for a split second—long enough for the largest Scavenger to slam into him, knocking him to the ground. Its weight crushed the air from his lungs as it raised a bladed forelimb for the killing strike—

The woman moved.

Weak, broken—but with the last of her strength, she grabbed a shard of carapace from the nest floor and rammed it into the Scavenger's exposed joint.

The monster howled, its attack faltering. Lucas seized the opening.

He drove his knife up through its gaping maw, twisting until the blade scraped against its inner shell. The Scavenger convulsed, then collapsed—just as the remaining three closed in.

[You have slain an Awakened Beast, Carapace Scavenger]

[You have received a memory.]

Without even caring about what it was, Lucas summoned it. Thankfully, it turned out to be a blade.

Adrenaline burned through the paralytic haze. Lucas rolled to his feet, blood dripping from his side, and faced the circle of clicking horrors.

The second Scavenger struck first—a lunging bite aimed for his throat. Lucas sidestepped and wrenched one of its limbs clean off with a sickening crunch of chitin and tendon. Before the creature could react, he reversed his grip on the still-twitching appendage and rammed its jagged end straight into the bulbous cluster of its eyes.

The Scavenger recoiled with a piercing shriek, black fluid gushing from ruptured membranes. Its remaining limbs flailed wildly, claws gouging furrows in the nest's fleshy walls as it staggered back—blind, but not yet dead.

Lucas didn't give it time to recover.

He charged forward, driving his sword into its thorax. The impact sent them both crashing to the ground in a tangle of limbs and carapace. The Scavenger's mandibles snapped inches from his face, spraying stomach acid that burned where it splattered across his cheek.

Gritting his teeth against the pain, Lucas brought his sword up into the creature's underbelly—the soft spot where segmented plates met in a vulnerable seam. Something gave way with a wet pop, and the Scavenger's thrashing took on a new, desperate rhythm.

Seizing the opportunity, Lucas grabbed the same severed limb still embedded in its eyes and twisted viciously. The creature's shrieks reached a fever pitch—then cut off abruptly as he shoved the makeshift weapon deeper, angling upward until it pierced whatever passed for a brain in the monstrosity.

The Scavenger spasmed once, twice, then went still beneath him.

[You have slain an Awakened Beast, Carapace Scavenger]

But Lucas had no time to celebrate.

The third Scavenger impaled his shoulder from behind. Pain exploded, white-hot, but Lucas snarled and yanked himself forward, pulling the creature off-balance. Before it could recover, he brought down his Kinetic energy filled fist on its head, crushing its skull under his gauntlet.

[You have slain an Awakened Beast, Carapace Scavenger]

The last one—the smallest, but fastest—leapt onto his back, needle-like mouthparts seeking his spine. Lucas grabbed it by the carapace and threw the aflame pouch of Centipede oil into its mouth. Charring it from inside.

[You have slain an Awakened Beast, Carapace Scavenger]

Silence.

To make sure that something like this doesn't happen again, Lucas went towards the eggs and destroyed them.

[You have slain an Awakened Beast, Centipede.]

[You have slain a Dormant Beast, Carapace Scavenger's spawn]

[You have slain a Dormant Beast, Carapace Scavenger's spawn]

[You have slain an Awakened Beast, Flesh Reaver]

[You have slain a Dormant Monster, ...]

[...]

Once he was certain everything had been destroyed—the nest, the eggs, the scavengers—Lucas took a moment to breathe. Really breathe.

The air stank of smoke and blood. His limbs trembled from exertion, his wounds aching with every heartbeat. He gathered what little could be salvaged—soul shards, that weird healing and pleasuring liquid, anything left behind in the wreckage.

Then, breathing hard, he staggered toward her.

The woman still clung to life—barely. Her body was broken, a ruin of blood and torn flesh, but her chest rose in shallow, trembling gasps. Her eyes were half-closed, flickering with pain and some final, fading awareness.

She was alive.

For now.

Without a word, Lucas knelt beside her. His arms slid gently beneath her back and legs, and he lifted her into a princess carry, careful not to worsen her wounds. Her weight felt fragile—like holding a life made of glass.

He turned away from the burning nest and began to walk.

Each step was agony. His leg throbbed. His ribs ground together with every breath. But he pressed on, driven by something he didn't want to name.

The world around him grew hazy—colors bleeding into one another, shadows stretching too long. His vision blurred at the edges, as though reality itself were fraying.

He could feel her pulse weakening in his arms.

And his own.

It was like watching two candles burning down together—flickering, wavering, about to vanish in the wind.

Still, he walked.

One step.

Then another.

Five hundred meters. That was as far as he made it.

His knees buckled.

He fell to the ground, shielding her with his body as he collapsed into the dust and coral shards.

For a long moment, he didn't move.

His eyes remained open—glassy, distant.

And on his face, there was no triumph. No anger.

Only a quiet sadness. And regret.

'I couldn't save her. Maybe not even myself.'

But even as darkness closed in, one hand remained curled protectively around her, as if shielding what little light was left.

His vision dimmed, darkness creeping in from the edges like ink spilled across paper. The world—the scorched coral, the smoke-thick air, the weight in his arms—faded into a distant hum.

His body no longer responded. Even the pain had grown quiet, distant, like a memory of something that had once mattered.

Lucas felt himself slipping.

Not just into unconsciousness. Into something deeper. Something final.

And just before he slipped into eternal slumber—

A sigh echoed across the silence.

Soft. Barely audible. But it wasn't his. And it wasn't hers.

It carried no malice. Only the weary weight of time.

Lucas's half-lidded eyes twitched. His fading awareness reached for that sound, that breath, as though it might tether him back to life.

Someone's here. Or something.

But then, everything went black.

And he was enveloped in soothing and warm radiance.